The Last Goodbye
Death in a nursing home
His wife withers in her nursing home bed, hanging on to a long goodbye. Death whittles her to bones and primitive groans muffled by morphine.
Love forces him to betray her. He signs a do not resuscitate order for the chart, remembering the morning they carved their initials in a birch tree on the bank of a river. How can he let her go?
He holds vigil beside her bed, day after day, the friction of time forms calluses on his heart. He feeds her ice chips. Her hand gropes blindly for his grip. Images kindle behind her misty eyes.
She whispers “frisbee” and suddenly he’s falling in love with her again in a public park in 1969. They’re counterculture, she has a boho style, flowy pants, brocade adorned coat.
Red frisbee spins through spring, caught by the laughter of a playful god.
They flirt on a pastel blanket, shy banter tentative touch, youth breaking free from a chrysalis of innocence, breathtaking as butterflies.
Redbuds blast lavender blooms, branches raise the audacious color toward heaven in prayer and praise.
An acoustic guitar blesses the park with a folk song, lingering melody of paradise.
Back in the dim nursing home, they fall in love again. The full palette of God’s colors bursts into their hearts. She closes her eyes, content with her last goodbye.
